


Stormy Weather

by ehmazing



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kink Meme, Older Characters, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehmazing/pseuds/ehmazing
Summary: “I said that I don’t feel theneedfor such things,” she says. “Not that I don’tlikethem.”Hubert blinks. The hand holding the book falls a little, though still giving her a wide berth.“I…see,” he says. He studies her for a moment, still looking confused.“For example,” she continues, “while I’ll freely admit I’m an old woman, I don’t want to be kissed like one.”
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 26
Kudos: 121
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt: Edelgard/Hubert, low sex drive/ace partner](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=66524#cmt66524)
> 
> "Both have retired together and share romantic feelings, but they have never before touched upon anything physical. The prompt can go either way:
> 
> Edelgard has a very low sex drive/is ace (the ace spectrum is very complex after all) and as soon as Hubert learns of this, he REFUSES to touch her, he doesn't want to defile her in any way. Edelgard doesn't want to be seen as "pure and untouchable" and insists on trying things out with him, give him a handjob or more. She really enjoys giving him pleasure and just watching him whimper.
> 
> OR
> 
> Hubert has a low sex drive but absolutely wants to serve Edelgard's needs when she gets horny. She notices he isn't as responsive to her physical advances as she hoped and immediately pulls back and feels guilty for trying to take advantage of him. Eventually the same outcome where he convinces her to let him take care of her desires her and watching her is enough for him.
> 
> Bonus when either of them suggest that the other should find another partner, and the other shoots that down."

Edelgard might have been able to bear it, if it weren’t for the storm. Hurricane weather, the local shepherd warned them, expected to linger on the coast all week; they’d best stay inside. Hubert reinforced the shutters on the cottage and double-checked the roof for potential leaks, while Edelgard gathered everything from the garden that would otherwise spoil from the rain. The first night, they listened to the wind howl outside, watching the fire spit in the hearth.

She was half-asleep in her chair when she remembered the laundry.

Everything pinned on the line was soaked through, of course, and so was she after a few frantic minutes of tugging down the sheets. Hubert had to brace his shoulder against the door to make it close against the wind, while Edelgard deposited the basket with a wet _plonk_ against the entryway floor. She grumbled as she unpinned her hair to wring it out, making the puddle even bigger.

“Wonderful,” she said as Hubert shucked off her coat. Rain had even managed to crawl under the collar, soaking her nightdress all down her back. She grimaced at the feeling of wet linen stuck to her skin. “Now I’ll have to sleep fully-dressed, or in nothing at all.”

He tossed the coat on top of the other laundry without watching where it fell—his eyes were fixed on the hair clinging to her bare neck.

“Well,” he said, “I don’t see the problem.”

She didn’t mind the feeling of wet fabric on her back so much, once he pressed her against the front door.

It’d been three months since they passed through the gates of Enbarr one final time. Three months they’d been able to work on this: the thing they’d put off. Sometimes she didn’t know how they behaved for so long. The first time they’d stood in some country marketplace, completely and utterly free, Hubert had idly kissed her hand as they walked and she felt fit to burst from happiness. While it hadn’t been simple—“I have called you ‘my lady’ for nearly half a century, you’ll just have to be patient if you want to be called anything else.”—she thought they were doing well. They walked together. They slept in the same bed. The old farmer they’d rented the cottage from assumed they were married, because at this age, what else could they be?

So as Hubert kissed her, deeply, hungrily, Edelgard felt nothing at first but euphoria. How many times had she wished to do this against a palace door! She hummed against his lips, shuddering as his fingers traced careful lines down her neck.

Then his hands moved lower, to her breasts. It felt odd, but not enough to be unpleasant. She decided to let it be; this was the boldest Hubert had yet been with her, and she didn’t want to discourage him. She kept kissing him as he touched her, happy that he seemed eager to.

But then his knee pressed between her legs, and before Edelgard could think it through, she pushed it away.

Hubert leaned back at once, putting more space between them. His hands fell from her chest to her arms, a more steadying touch than a passionate one, and his brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “was that too much?”

“No, no!” Edelgard squeezed his shoulders, smiling to reassure him. “No, it was very nice. Just, ah, I realize that we’ve never discussed…certain specificities.” His concern only grew more apparent. “There’s no need to worry. What I mean is, I’ve never explained to you that I don’t have…” Saints, how was she supposed to say this? “I don’t have needs.”

“You don’t have needs,” Hubert repeated slowly. Now his brow was furrowed with confusion.

“That is, I don’t feel the need for, um, intimate acts.” Edelgard could feel her face flushing with embarrassment—it felt even more silly to say aloud. “They don’t affect me like they do other people. So I rarely feel the urge to act on them. Do you understand?”

Hubert backed a little further away, considering her. After a moment he nodded. “I think I do.”

Edelgard exhaled with relief. “And that’s…alright with you?”

His face softened. “Of course.” He ducked his head to kiss her forehead tenderly. “I only wish you’d told me earlier, so I could’ve spared you the discomfort.”

“The real source of my discomfort is that I’m still wet,” she chuckled.

“Then I’ll fix that too,” Hubert replied.

He gave her his spare nightshirt to change into, and then helped comb the knots from her hair as she sat to dry by the fire. He woke her up to move to their actual bed after she fell asleep against his shoulder.

And in the five days afterward, he hasn’t touched her since.

Part of the reason Edelgard didn’t say anything was that she didn’t notice for the first day or so. Up to this point, she’s gone all her life without being touched by Hubert. But up to this point, all her life they’d lived in large spaces. In Enbarr, it was easy to suppress the urge to embrace him simply by staying to one side of a palatial room. In the cottage, it’s difficult not to cross paths, but not impossible. After several days fenced in by the weather, though, Edelgard can’t ignore that Hubert refuses to even pass her in a doorway.

The storm turns every dawn grey. Each hour bleeds into the next. They stand side-by-side in the tiny kitchen and somehow never so much as brush elbows. They play cards until the candles burn down and if their feet bump under the tiny table, Hubert moves his leg out of the way. He never protests if she pushes: when she places her hand over his, he lets her hold it; when she leans up to kiss his cheek, he bends down so she can reach. But his responses are so delicate, so chaste, she feels as though somehow she’s traveled back in time to the anxious days when she held the throne and everyone was still watching. The thought that her confession might have undone all their improvements makes her want to scream.

She wakes up on the sixth day alone in bed, yet again. She tries to quell her irritation as she dresses, glaring at the trees swaying in the wind outside. “This might never have happened if it weren’t for you,” she scolds the storm. The wind sounds like a whispery laugh.

The day proceeds much like the previous. After they take their morning tea, Edelgard settles at her desk with a growing pile of letters that wait for a dry day to be sent. Hubert fusses over the cottage’s sole clock for a while—broken on their arrival and still doing no better, despite his best efforts—and by the time he gives up today, he’s raked his hands through his hair so much that one side has fluffed up. He curses under his breath as he sinks into his reading chair, grabbing a book from the table. Edelgard covers her mouth with her hand so that he won’t hear her laugh.

The rain hammers away at the roof. The crease on Hubert’s forehead softens as he keeps reading, his posture slackening. Edelgard stopped writing in the middle of a sentence and has no idea how she meant to finish it now, because she’s fixated on the way Hubert licks his thumb to turn each page. In the dim light, the bones of his face are more pronounced, casting shadows over his cheeks. His hair, flecked with grey, could be so easily fixed if she ran a hand through it.

He’s focused enough that he doesn’t move when she stands up and leaves her desk, even though the floorboards creak beneath her feet. He only startles when she perches on the arm of his chair, balancing herself with a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, looking up at her.

“I don’t know how you can sit in this,” is her answer, patting the back of the chair. “It’s the stiffest one in the house.”

“Exactly,” Hubert chuckles. “It was made for me.” When she wobbles on her perch, he reaches around to steady her, bracing his hand on her lower back. “Clearly not for two though.”

“That’s the chair’s problem, not mine.”

“You can be the one to fix it when it breaks, then.”

Gradually, his attention drifts back to the book. The hand steadying her back relaxes, warm through the fabric of her dress. Idly, he strokes his thumb back and forth, and she’s—god, she’s _excited_ by it. He begins pressing down his fingers one by one, a slow, meaningless motion, but it’s the most contact they’ve had in days aside from brushing hands to pass a tea spoon. Edelgard feels ridiculous. She feels ravenous.

“Hubert,” she calls softly, and when he turns his head, she kisses him. It’s light and soft—the way all their kisses have been—and though he’s clearly surprised by it, Hubert kisses her back. His hand presses harder against her, helping her stay balanced. She cups her own around his jaw, trying to keep him there, trying to make this last. But her tongue has barely brushed his mouth before he pulls out of reach.

“I think,” he breathes, “we should be careful. I really don’t trust this chair to hold up.”

“Is that the only reason you’re being careful?” Edelgard huffs. “There’s no chair in the kitchen, but you won’t kiss me there, either.”

Hubert frowns, closing his book over his finger to mark his place. “What do you mean?”

“I mean all week, you’ve behaved more piously than a priest.” She tries not to let it, but a little of the hurt slips out in her voice. Now Hubert looks equally wounded.

“Is any other way to behave? You said you didn’t feel the need to act intimately. So I haven’t.”

Again, how is she supposed to explain it? Edelgard flounders over what to say, until it occurs to her that there’s an easier course of action.

She slides from the arm of the chair onto his lap.

Hubert stiffens at once, flinching back, but there’s nowhere for him to go. He holds the book far to the side as though she’s doused him with water and he doesn’t want to get it wet, while the hand that was once on her back is left hovering in the air, unsure of where to land. She takes the opening to lean in, resting her hands against his chest.

“I said that I don’t feel the _need_ for such things,” she says. “Not that I don’t _like_ them.”

Hubert blinks. The hand holding the book falls a little, though still giving her a wide berth.

“I…see,” he says. He studies her for a moment, still looking confused.

“For example,” she continues, “while I’ll freely admit I’m an old woman, I don’t want to be kissed like one.”

Hubert snorts. “Passing forty doesn’t make you _that_ old.”

“It doesn’t make me fragile, either.” She wraps one of his collar ties around her finger, watching his throat clench as he swallows. “I’m not going to shatter if you hold me.” She pauses. “That is, if you want to.”

The book clatters where it hits the floor.

Hubert sweeps his hands over her shoulders, down her back, around her waist, and she feels like the air’s been punched from her lungs. He sits up, moving her forward with him, arms snug around her.

“Yes,” he whispers, breath hot against her face. “I want to.”

This time, the kiss is anything but light and soft. Hubert opens his mouth, heartbeat pounding beneath her hands as her teeth scrape against his lips, her tongue drags over his. When she drags her hands down his shirt, she can feels his grip tighten against her sides in kind. It’s laughable to think he’s been suffering as much as she has, to hold himself back.

Eventually she pulls away, letting them both catch their breath. Hubert’s mouth is bruised red, his eyes hazy. She can’t help but smile as she runs a thumb over the peak of his chin.

“Now it’s your turn,” she prompts. “Tell me what you like. What you want.”

Hubert shakes his head, still panting. “This is—I don’t—I’m happy enough,” he finally manages.

“Hm.” Edelgard watches his face as she moves her hands lower, as slow as she can, stopping just under his waistband. His erection is plainly visible, pushing at the seam of his pants. She could feel it against her thigh from the moment she sat on top of him. “Are you really?”

Hubert exhales hard, his face growing red.

“That’s cheating.”

Edelgard laughs. “I wasn’t aware this was a game.”

“It wasn’t. But I can tell by your face that you’re delighted to beat me at something.” He smirks. “Clearly you’ve resented that with all this time inside, I’ve been getting better at cards.”

“And now think of all the time we’ve wasted playing cards,” she counters, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth, “when we could’ve been having more fun.”

She kisses his cheek, his jaw, moves down the column of his neck. Hubert groans low in his throat when she nibbles around his collarbone. He’s right: it does feel like winning, to undo him piece by piece. She wonders if she could make him groan louder just from kissing his neck like this. She wonders what he’d sound like if she did more.

“Tell me,” she repeats, angling her head to the other side to kiss the space behind his ear. “Or show me, if that’s easier.”

Hubert exhales again. Then, gently, he takes her hands from his waistband. With shaking fingers, he unfastens the front of his pants and untucks his shirt, pulling the fabric out of the way.

When he frees his cock, Edelgard is sure they’re both equally red in the face. For her, it’s not so much the sight of a naked man that warms her, but the way Hubert’s breath hitches when he first touches himself, the way his eyelashes flutter as he grips the base. She can feel the muscles of his thighs twitch under her legs as he begins to stroke. His free arm wraps firmly around her waist to keep her from slipping off. If they weren’t squished into the chair, she thinks, it’d be easier to do this if she were straddling one of his legs—an idea for later. For now, she sits back, content to watch. Until she isn’t.

“Can I?” She brushes her fingers over Hubert’s wrist, stopping his hand. He makes another sound just from that, has to nod instead of speak.

She glides her hand over his length, fascinated by the feel of it. His skin is smooth to the touch and so hot against her palm. She smoothes her thumb over the head, copying what he’s done, and Hubert has to grip the arm of the chair as he gasps.

“This doesn’t— _ah_ —feel fair,” he says, leaning forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder, kissing the lace at her collar. “Do you want me to…?“

Edelgard shakes her head. “You’re doing enough.”

But eventually, her light touches aren’t enough. Hubert clutches at the fabric of her skirt, groaning into her neck, “Please, let me…” and the instant she nods, he places his hand over hers, adjusting her grip, picking up speed. The motion is unfamiliar, a little awkward, but when Hubert actually _whines_ she’s so delighted that she laughs aloud.

“You’re so cruel,” he says, but the smile on his face brings out the lines near his eyes. “Laughing at a man in a delicate position.”

“You’re so mean,” she counters, dragging her other hand through his hair. “Making a woman wait so long to put him there.”

The longer she works at him, the louder Hubert’s responses become. Whenever she slows, her hand tiring, the way he moans makes her want to speed up again. His cock is flushed pink, so silky in her hand. When she whispers this to him, Hubert’s hips actually cant up, nearly displacing them both from the chair.

His hand starts to grip hers a little too hard; she assumes she’s still not quick enough. So she untangles her hand from his cock to push him back against the chair.

“Keep going,” she orders, before leaning in to kiss, lick, bite every part of his neck that she can reach. Hubert’s fist bumps against her stomach with every movement. His cries increase in pitch until he stills with one silent gasp, shaking under her.

Before Edelgard can ask, Hubert uses his free hand to pull her face back to his. By the time the kiss ends, she looks down to find his cock spent, his hand glistening. Hubert’s head knocks against the back of the chair as he closes his eyes, his chest still heaving.

Edelgard kisses his cheek once more before she rises. Her legs feel wobbly from sitting twisted sideways for so long—she’ll definitely have to experiment with position in the future. When she returns to Hubert with a towel, he takes only a moment to clean himself and fix his pants before tossing it aside and pulling her back down. The chair groans with protest as they adjust until she can sit with her head tucked onto his shoulder.

“You were right,” he murmurs against her hair. “Utter waste of time, playing cards.”

She laughs. Through the window, she can hear the crash of the sea in the distance. Maybe the clouds are finally clearing.

“It still feels a little unfair,” Hubert admits. His thumb strokes against her back again, and she wonders how it can still feel as exciting as it was earlier. If it will ever stop feeling exciting. “You might not need anything, but you’d still tell me if you wanted something, would you?”

“Of course. And sometimes, I might.” She fiddles with the tie of his collar again. “I’ve never had much time to figure it out.”

Hubert kisses her forehead—just as tenderly as before, but lingering with more promise now.

“Lucky for you then,” he says, “I heard there’s another storm coming next week.”

**Author's Note:**

> coming out of my anon cage and i've been doing juST FINE GOTTA GOTTA BE DOWN BC I W--
> 
> I'd like to thank OP for an absolutely stellar prompt and [Etta James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VE5_fDmPt0w) for the title inspo, for real, this was an honest treasure to compose :')


End file.
